Friday, 30 October 2015

Guest Author Michael Smart. An excerpt from Davidia's Seed.

Following a calamitous
space battle, a small damaged pod drifts amid the debris, a single individual
aboard, clinging to the final moments of life. A ship, hidden behind a small
orange and red hued moon while the battle raged, approaches the debris field,
searching for items to salvage and discovers the pod.

The
serendipitous encounter of two strangers in space spawns an extraordinary
journey and a shared destiny neither could have imagined, which will decide the
fate of two worlds on the brink of war.

A discerning
and cautious General, aware of the devastation a war will wrought, seeks to
avoid it. A ruling Governor, imprisoned by culture and tradition, is determined
to pursue it. And a clandestine operative races against time in search of the
key to prevent it.

Michael has been a guest on the Scribbler previously. I invite you to click on this link M.Smart to read more about this talented author.The link to his website is below. An excerpt.

The enormous ship shuddered. It rolled onto its side like a
charging beast felled by a hunter’s bullet. Ezekiel tumbled weightlessly within
the pitch-black compartment. The dim artificial lighting winked out, replaced
by bright explosive flashes and flickering firelight. Ezekiel slammed against a
bulkhead, arresting his uncontrolled inertia in the confines of the small
compartment.

The battle had been lost. Each brief flash of light
illuminated the chaos around him. Energy relays and conduits exploded. Fires
burned out of control. Beams buckled. The bulkheads and decks they supported
crumbled. The acrid odor of burning equipment, machinery, and flesh, reached
him through the ventilators.

And the whiff of toxic fumes. If the poisonous gasses didn’t
kill him first, the failing life support system would, merely prolonging the
inevitable. Unless the compartment decompressed first. He’d sealed it upon
entering, but how much longer before it imploded? The ship doomed, as explosive
decompression consumed it section by section. It’d reach him soon.

The end of life closed in on Ezekiel, clouding his
consciousness, clouding his mind as he sought direction, as he waited for
instructions directing the actions required of him. Instructions, which never
arrived.

Ezekiel pushed himself off the bulkhead, in the direction of
the scout pod he’d been servicing. His actions directed by an overriding
instinct, focused solely on reaching and entering the pod.

A sudden rush of flying debris drew Ezekiel’s attention as
he floated through the scout’s open hatch. The fires in the compartment snuffed
out as though smothered by a giant hand. A maw-like opening in the far bulkhead
grew wide, exposing the compartment to empty space beyond. Not empty. Through
the breach, Ezekiel observed a vast field of fast moving debris, the mangled
remnants of a once mighty fleet.

The compartment’s atmosphere vented into space, sucking the
air from his lungs. A light-headedness descended upon him. And a lightness in
his body, apart from the absence of gravity.

Ezekiel secured the pod’s hatch as the doomed mother ship
collapsed around the scout. He activated the scout’s systems, pressurizing the
tiny, cramped interior. Life support and flight controls powered on. He’d been
trained and conditioned to pilot the pod, scouting beyond the range of the
mother ship’s sensors.

Before he’d been able to release the dock clamps, the final
explosive demise of the mother ship jettisoned the small single person scout
violently into space, one more piece of debris, hurtling amidst the fragments
of the mother ship.

Inertia flung Ezekiel out of the pilot seat, pinning him
against the ceiling. The sound of metal impacting metal resonated through the
cockpit. Alarms flashed their dull illumination on the control panel. Ezekiel’s
inner ear perceived a tumbling motion.

He reached out. Grasped the back of the pilot seat. He maneuvered
his weightless body into the seat and secured the restraints around his torso
and hips. Disjointed, unfamiliar thoughts rushed through his mind as he donned
the control headcap. He activated the scout’s maneuvering jets and stabilized
the pod’s tumbling motion. He scanned the panel, and the silent, pulsing,
beckoning alarms. Borinian instruments emitted no sounds. And none of their
vessels possessed transparent surfaces permitting visual sighting beyond the
hull.

He observed the energy spikes on the instruments, depicting
the explosive end of the mother ship. The only sounds in the scout the thud of
debris impacting the hull. Ezekiel also observed the flying flotsam displayed
on the instruments. The debris spread out in all directions, travelling at
speeds to keep them in perpetual motion through space, until halted by some
other force.

Another instrument indicated damage to the propulsion
system. Only the maneuvering thrusters functioning. Life support also
functioning, but the pod was leaking atmosphere, probably punctured by a piece
of debris. The pod’s power cells were draining and unable to recharge. Soon
there’d be insufficient power to sustain life support, sealing his fate, if the
space borne debris didn’t destroy the pod first. His escape in the scout a
temporary reprieve.

Such a fate held no meaning for Ezekiel. He’d been bred to
serve, and die. His every thought, every action, directed and controlled by
omnipresent minds superimposed on his own. His mind linked irrevocably to his
masters.

Until now. The sudden silence in his mind overwhelmed him.
As frightening as the gagged chunks of metal hurtling around him. And the
thoughts rushing through his mind were not of the masters, but more like the
visions possessing his mind during sleep. The masters absent. The headcap he
wore silent. Now all departed, along with the mother ship.

For the first time in his life, Ezekiel experienced the
sensation of being utterly alone. It disoriented and frightened him. Threatened
to consume him as he sought to comprehend the strange unfamiliar impulses
compelling him to act. Who had directed him into the scout? Provided the
instructions to escape the doomed mother ship? What actions was he required to
perform next? The headcap remained ominously silent.

Absent instructions, Ezekiel was lost. He waited for death
in the silence surrounding him, accompanied by the strange new voice in his
mind.

Thank you Michael for sharing your story with us. Please visit Michael's website to find the links where you can purchase his novels.

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Allan Hudson

About Me

I started writing later in life, inspired by one of my favorite authors, Bryce Courtenay, who began his writing career in his mid-fifties. It has been one of my most rewarding pastimes. I’ve been an avid reader all my life. It started with Dick & Jane – a primary reader my mother brought home from her work – she was a school teacher and taught me to read at an early age.

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5 Star review for Shattered Figurine

The opening chapter presents the detective, Jo Naylor, with a very important question. One she didn’t really want to answer but knows she must.

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Shattered Figurines is a surprisingly unusual detective story in that it doesn’t follow the usual plotline for this genre and the characters aren’t run of the mill either. The author has captured a very real element in both the story and the characters and I thoroughly enjoyed reading it.

I love a good detective mystery story and Shattered Figurines is one of the best I have read this year. I shall be first in the queue when the author writes another one in this series.

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Drake Alexander Adventure - Book 1. I'm pleased to announce the first two novels in the Drake Alexander Adventures are now available as an eBook at the following outlets. Kobo, Apple Books, Barnes & Noble, Baker & Taylor, Playster, Book2read, Bibliotheca, Overdrive, Tolino, Scribd, 24 Symbols & Amazon. Soon to be available at other booksellers.

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